


Faded Sun

by antevasin



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Battle of Wolf 359 (Star Trek), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Jennifer Sisko (mentioned), Supportive friends/colleagues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antevasin/pseuds/antevasin
Summary: It's the first time that an annual memorial for the victims of Wolf 359 will be held at Deep Space Nine. Despite the years that have passed since, Sisko is still struggling. But something is different in this place: He has friends that are there for him.
Relationships: Jadzia Dax & Benjamin Sisko
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Faded Sun

**Author's Note:**

> After lurking here for months, I have finally made an account and decided to post some of my own stories! This is not the first one I ever started, but the first one I finished (circa November 2019). I am still rather new to Star Trek and much newer even to writing (serious) fanfiction, so any reviews are highly appreciated!

An unexpected sound woke him from his lethargic state. Someone was knocking on the door. Not sounding the chime, just knocking. It was not a demand to be let in, rather a noncommittal question. Sisko's eyes swept his quarters. The still empty Padd in his hands. The nearly empty bottle of Californian wine on the table, the traces the glass had left. A half-eaten, replicated toast that had long lost not only its temperature, but also its appeal seemed to accuse him of his negligence. And then, of course, the fact that despite managing to put on his uniform shirt and pants he was still barefoot.

The knocking persisted. Not urging, more as if to make sure it had been heard. And finally, the Commander gave up. "Come in," he called in a poor attempt of sounding composed. And so it came with some relief when he made out that the shape sliding through the door was Dax. That was someone he might be able to cope with, even today.

He observed his science officer taking in the scenery, the leftover food, the drinks, his appearance, hoping for a spark of realization to light in her eyes, anything so he would not have to explain. It took him a minute to figure out that no realization would come, and that exactly that was the reason she was here: She had known - guessed? - all along.

As soon as the doors had fallen shut, Dax made her way across the room to where he was hunched on a chair in a position that, now that he thought about it, was actually quite uncomfortable. He was reminded of being chewed out by his father, the way she towered over him right now. At least until she gently placed a hand on his shoulder and locked her eyes, round and deep with empathy, with his.

"Benjamin?" His friend lowered down to a crouch to properly look at him. "Major Kira wanted to call you when you didn't show up this morning, but I convinced her that was not a good idea."

Sisko felt a critical gaze examine him, similar to that of a doctor, or perhaps a therapist. Under better circumstances he might have joked with Dax about her behaving like a parent to him despite being several years younger. But right now, all he wanted was some time to himself.

"I just need to finish this speech." He was aware of how hollow the words sounded, not aided by the hoarse sound of his voice and the choking sensation in his throat. And even if it had not been for that, the empty Padd was an open book. Dax would not even have to rely on her knowledge of him to tell it was a blatant lie.

But she made no comment on that. Instead, she simply pulled up another chair and settled down next to him. As she covered one of Sisko's hands - at least partially - with her own, he realized it was shaking vividly. In fact, not only his hand was. His legs trembled. His body seized. His breathing came in shallow, jerking gasps, and the blur, the spin of the world around him, the darkness lapping on the edges was becoming too much to bear. It had lingered there all day, he knew that, but it was only now that he gave in to the waves rolling over him again.

He should have known. Just the fact that he was in another place now would not ease the pain. It was nearly as strong as last year, tearing black holes into his heart, pulling his entire self inside. He was floating, tumbling, drowning, sinking, spinning, falling. Falling…

Then a voice pulled him back gently. Not completely, just holding his head above the surface so he could breathe, he could hear… "Benjamin?" Now Dax's voice was shrill with concern. Long fingers wrapped around both his shoulders and steadied him while her words drifted into his ears like through distant fog. "You probably don't want the Doctor here right now, but if you intend to pass out then I intend to call the infirmary!"

He pulled himself further up, groaning with the effort, pain still clenching his entire interior. But he managed to force his eyes open, staring blankly at his friend.

She silenced him before he could choke on unspeakable words again. "Shhhh. I'm here. Come on, let's get you a bit more comfortable." Too numb to feel gratitude, too tormented to resist, he let her guide him to the sofa, completely relying on her to steady his swaying steps. When she had sat him down, he buried his face in his palms, trying to block out the flashing lights, the shaking ground, the alarm sounds and explosions and shrieks of dying people that overwhelmed him every time. It was terrible enough when the nightmares came. But this was worse, because he knew he was awake.

The presence of Dax somewhat grounded him. She stayed by his side while he tried to regain his breath, his balance, his vision. She wrapped an arm around him as he started shaking uncontrollably. And as he croaked between sobs that he simply could not do it, he could not face a crowd of subtly mourning people that evening while he himself drowned in his grief, still, after all this time, she just nodded and murmured: "I know."

It took another hour or so until he was able to speak again. It must have been 15:00 hours or later, and he should have been in Ops at 9:00. He had never not shown up for duty since taking command of Deep Space Nine, but today it just was not possible.

And so he blinked with relief when Dax suggested quietly: "You don't have to do this, you know. Chief O'Brien has been there. There's no reason why he can't hold a speech."

"But you don't even have a speech. I- I just haven't been able … to get anything down."

She smiled, and it was a genuine but sad smile, the sort of smile you saw in faces that were trying to light up an overwhelming darkness. "You don't have a speech indeed. But we do."

Puzzled, he stared at the Trill.

"It was not hard to guess today would be hard for you. And I - well, Dax - had this feeling that you could do with some help from your friends. So I teamed up with the Chief to write a speech for the memorial. His first-hand experience at the battle and Dax's experience as a politician were all we needed."

Sisko felt more emotions welling up inside him, but this time, they were not only heavy grief and paralyzing sadness. There was a comforting warmth, the knowledge that he had friends here and that they would be there for him when it was too large a burden to carry. They could not take any of the weight, but they would light a torch when he saw no way out and take him by the hand if he stumbled and fell.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Dax squeezed his hand and elaborated: "It wasn't just us, you know. When I told Kira this morning you might not show up - she understood. Odo, too. He sealed off this section for anyone without security clearance so that no one would disturb you. Julian said he would relieve you of duty for as long as you need if Starfleet is causing trouble. And even Quark - he let Nog leave early when Jake showed up at his bar and needed someone."

Stunned with disbelief, Sisko shook his head. All these people that he had not even known a year ago, and now they were here for him, not belittling his pain, but ready to do what they could to alleviate it. They allowed him to do what Starfleet had not wanted him to do: grieve.

"You know what I tried to tell myself after Jennifer died?" He was well aware that his voice still trembled, but at least he felt confident enough to speak at all. Dax looked at him expectantly.

"I tried to tell myself that I shouldn't grieve so much, that other people had lost loved ones too, that every single one of them was only one tiny star in the galaxy, and that even eleven thousand faded stars are only a tiny fraction of the universe… but the truth is, to me she was more than just one of many stars. She was my sun, and suddenly, she was gone forever. And perhaps… perhaps I should grieve. Perhaps it is okay to hurt when you lose what's most important to you." He sighed. "It took me a long while to come to terms with that."

Dax faced his gaze, earnestly, the slightest hint of a smile surrounding her lips. "I'll make sure to add that to the speech," she promised.


End file.
